Funderfulall!
by Lina-the-dEmEnTeD AUTHOR
Summary: [Drawn Together] Alternate Ending to 'The one Wherein There is a Big TwistPart 2'. WoolDoor SockBat vs. Strawberry Sweetcake!


Rated M for unfathomable violence, (overshadowing?) adult themes, and cussin'.

Disclaimer: I don't, nor will I (most likely) ever own the cast of Drawn Together. What you see before you is an AU one-shot, manifested by the lust of the universal ballet that one would refer to as a "violence". Or to be more specific, an alternate ending to "The One Wherein There is a Big Twist Part II". Wherein if Toot had **not** coincidently plummeted from the sky, and devoured Strawberry Sweetcake.

NOTES I PROCLAIM: This symbol--- means the fic is making a transition to the camera confessional room. And I don't feel like becoming fluent in Ling-Ling-glish, so I'm writing out his few lines in English, as if your reading subtitles. (Don't be offended too. The show's fuckin-offensive. If you are offended then just laugh it off, and I will too. I was offended once and let it get to me. So I got upset and ate an omelette at a nearby Greek Diner. So I contributed into the consistently inflating economy...

Do enjoy.

**Funderful-All!**

_By Lina-the-dEmEnTeD AUTHOR_

"Looks like you'll be spending a "Chocolotta" time behind "Candy" bars." the blonde warrior proclaimed proudly, as he held his very suggestive Shiva battle sword in Stawberry Sweetcake's direction. The rage and humiliation of defeat that had once darkened her china blue eyes, flooded with panic and fear, that reflected the darting contorted mind of a desperate. Willing to attempt anything to accomplish her malevolent purpose.

Suddenly a door of opportunity opened for the adorable genocidal maniac.

The Princess, who had gathered WoolDoor up into her arms in an protective manner, seemed irked, videlicet sickened by Xandir's mockingly triumphant pun.

"God damn I hate you..." she muttered close to him in a venomous whisper.

Now Sweetcake felt a malice grin spread across her brain that second, as she knew what was to come, from weeks of waiting, and studying her fellow roommates traits and weaknesses. Xandir's frailty, for instance, being that he was overly sensitive, as a stereotypical gay young man, and was taken aback by Clara's calousness. So much so, that the childlike felon took this opportunity of easily had distraction, and snatched Xandir's sword from his hands.

"AHA! Now hand over that hook nosed Sockbat before I fucking kiww you all!" she demanded her newly overtaken hostages.

---

_:WoolDoor, wearing a monotonous expression and his vertical striped concentration camp pajamas took in a deep tranquil calm breath:_

**WoolDoor:** Alright. Normally in a situation like this, I'd most likely I'd pee alllllll over myself, like a hooker getting beat with a tv cable wire, because I didn't make my screams of ecstacy sound convincing to the Senator, who paid 300 an hour to have his way with me and for me to gnaw on the skin of his-...but thats beside the point. I'm able to tolerate her consistent deprivation of my personal freedom, the fact that she and her ancestors took part in the extermination of my people, that annoying flemmy hacking noise she makes in the bathroom when she brushes her teeth, and I can even get past the fact that she just tried to eat me...but NOBODY POINTS OUT MY AESTHETIC DIFFERENCES IN A RACIAL SLUR. Aquiline-shnozz power!

---

What proceeded was sudden and quick. WoolDoor wriggled out of the biased Princess' arms. As soon as the sole of his socked right foot was planted firmly on the kitchen linoleum, his left leg, like a slingshot, propelled in the direction of Sweetcake's face.

His over sized heel decked her in the chin, knocking the tiny girl back several feet. At that very moment only three figures seemed to exist in the universe. All else was nullity. Strawberry Sweetcake, WoolDoor, and the Shiva sword that clattered to the floor between the two figures.

Thankfully the scene was so melo-dramatic that Sweetcake stumbled backwards in ultra slow motion, giving WoolDoor a moment to blink several times, and plan his next move. He knew it would be moments before Sweetcake would fall, wipe the small amount of blood from her lip to build up the drama of their fight, pull herself back to her feet, and retaliate to his assault, so he rushed forward to retrieve Xandir's sword, with an obvious purpose in mind.

Clutching the collar of his pajamas, he tore his attire, shirt and pants, into two equal pieces, revealing very raunchy dominatrix lingerie, including leather boots, whip and all. Turning red and sheepishly giggling, he tore at his risque clothes a second time, now presented in his usual white tank and blue skort.

Screaming a nonsensical Xena warrior cry, he ran towards the toppled Sweetcake, with the sword high above his head he prepared to drive the weapon directly into her neck. He wanted to plunge the sword so far into her that it scraped the tiles beneath.

Unfortunately he too was moving in a slow motion pace, and overdramatized his kill move.

_Squishhhh_

His eyes pierced shut, the sword connected with an figure, and violent red liquid sprinkled his yellow hands, and face. But something was wrong. He didn't smell the familiar metallic scent of blood. Instead the incision smelled almost...sweet.

WoolDoor cracked one of his bulging green eyes open to behold a giant strawberry in between himself and his target. The very same strawberry used to knock Foxxy Love out earlier.

Rotating the oversized fruit quickly as one would a beachball, she yanked the imbedded sword from WoolDoor's loose grip, and tossed the berry across the room, well out of reach. Once unarmed the Sockbat was left vulnerable to her punch, and following tackle.

The group, until now observing in silent dread, were ready to defend their friend.

"Lets kick that littl' bits' ass!" Foxxy shouted, but before anyone had a chance to dogpile on the attacker (Amongst other things best left to the imagination) who was preoccupied with struggling to wrap her tiny fingers around WoolDoor's neck, they were stopped.

"Sutoppu!" Ling Ling hollered waving his arms frantically.

---

**Ling-Ling:** Ling-Ling well aware of unwritten code of sacred battle, and honors yellow hyper kinetic san's need to avenge on his own. _:The Camera closes up on Ling-Ling's face, as his eyes become blue and several strands of unexplainable black hair sweep across his face much like the Memoirs of a Geisha poster.:_ "If your honorable friend tells you to cut your leg, you cut your leg", and so on... but dumb Engrish people don't understand sacred honor, so Ling-Ling have to dumb it down for housemates.

---

"Pretend we participating in Dragon Ball Z brawl!" he shouted, his red eyes narrowing, and balling his tiny orange claws into fists. The latter housemates followed his example, bending their knees every so slightly, allowing their strained breath to escape their grit teeth every so often. One or two farts escaped from sources unknown as well, but their was no time for snickering, or concerning with who dealt it. Their concentration was now focused on the struggling two forms in the center of the kitchen.

Wooldoor grasped the miniature eighteen year old's wrists with all his might, but under anticipated her strength, as her finger nails clawed into his yellow flesh, leaving red crescent moons along his neck. as one of her patent Mary Jane shoe pressed into his stomach, pinned him down.

She leant forward, grinning like a Cheshire cat through her snarling and grunts, as the Whatchamacallit beneath her tried to break free."I swear, I'm going to dwink _evewy _dwop of your bwood, drizzled on Dulce de Leche Caramel Cheesecake..." she whispered, inches from his face. She was so close he could feel the heat of her breath against his face. Kicking his legs underneath her, he kicked the girl off him easily, due to her very light weight. Before she could clutch her abdomen in pain, WoolDoor slammed his skull down onto her's, which surprisingly wasn't softened by her bonnet and red curls, thus he felt a spasm of pain swim just behind his eye sockets.

"NOBODY... eats me...with CARAMEL!" he yelled, as he swung his large foot towards her head. Despite her dizziness from the previous head butt, she stopped his foot, hugging it close to her face. She bite down in between the tender medial area of his foot, as he shrieked in pain, as muscle crunched in Sweetcake's mouth. The white material surrounding the bite mark blossomed red, as her teeth broke through the cotton and skin. Biting his own cheek, not wanting to give his opponent the satisfaction of hearing him plead to let go, he tried to yank his leg from her grasp, with no avail as she spun him around a full ninety degrees, and sent him sailing into the hallway, in a deranged form of figure skating.

Wooldoor flew opposite into the wall outside the kitchen. No sooner did he feel the sensation of the plaster crack against his skin, he instinctively threw himself to his side away, as Sweetcake punched into the space he once crumpled. After her flight into the wall, he quickly gained ground and punched at her square between the eyes, feeling every contour of her face on his knuckles.

Her quick well trained footing, and the close to dilapidated, abused wall gave her the support to answer his punch, with a punishing whip of the back of her hand. Both refused to fall into the wall from one another's strikes, so they continued reigning punches and scratches directed at one another's faces, now decorated with red slivers and purple blots of scratches and bruises.

No articulate forms of fighting style, but just a dance of wrath, fueled by humiliation and a striving for satisfaction. Both fighters found their legs moving them down the hallway, as they made their way into the living room.

Meanwhile back in the kitchen, the housemates remained within their stance, still straining, as they stared at nothing.

"Hey... Ling-Ling," Foxxy said through grit teeth. "Shouldn' we get out there and at least watch WoolDoor waste the berrilicious bitch?"

"I've strained so hard in this horrible stance, I shit myself." Clara said.

"So did I. Besides isn't this just an ploy to build up the drama so the writers don't have to worry about what the other characters are up to, while other characters are in action. " said the monotonous voice of Spanky, who was non-chalantly munching on an apple in one hand, and twirling a pinwheel in between the hooves of his other hand.

The group, still crouched slightly, looked towards Spanky, bewilderment in their eyes, and faces. He let out a laugh as he held a mouthful of apple between his cheek and teeth.

"Whoo-hoo" he continued ", and don't get me started on the sweatshop animation department. Those kids can work just so many hours."

"But Spanky," said Xandir, "Your not even standing in the stance like us..." he trailed on to the internet pig, who stood leaning against the counter, more relaxed than they would have appreciated. He idly swallowed another mouthful of apple half lidded looking into empty space.

"Yeah...I know." he answered after several awkward seconds of silence, with a somewhat satisfied grin on his face.

As the housemates in the kitchen dealt with their moment of encountering first hand Spanky's comfort and pleasure of his own bodily functions, WoolDoor and Sweetcake were still locked in a furious battle of resistance, till both were finally drained stood in a standoff. Neither of them could hear their own breath. Just the sound of their perspiration, gliding down their faces, soaking their wounds. WoolDoor winced as the acidic saltiness of his sweat mixed with a gash on his temple.

WoolDoor, after what seemed like an eternity, took her fatigue as an opportunity to make the next move. He ran towards Sweetcake, with nothing but determination written across his face, but this proved fatal due to the pain from the bite on his foot, that had just now registered into his brain. Pain seared up his leg, causing his knee to buckle. It seemed as though Sweetcake was standing in the right place at the right time, because once the half hobbling, half attacking Sockbat came in reach, she yanked him harshly by the crook of his arm and shoved him into the newly imported glass coffee table that stood behind her. The table would have shattered to billions of painful slivers beneath him, had the table been made of a poor quality. However the household had just won the table from a challenge (Best left unmentioned), given to them by the nefarious Jew producers. Instead the glass table only smashed into about a dozen shards, one piece imbedding itself into WoolDoor's palm, as he fell face first into the glass sheet.

He was shaken, but not entirely down, as he pulled himself up, his fingers around the glass in his hand contorting and curling inward, like a cat flexing it's claws. He felt the floor under him vibrate slightly with each patter of Sweetcake's tiny footsteps running towards the stairs. Reaching a higher place would give her the upper hand, and WoolDoor did not intend on happening. Stepping out of the metal skeletal structure that once was their "shitting table", he pulled the slippery red glass from his hand in one strained tug, allowing himself to shed a tear from the pain, knowing it would be overlooked next to the secretions, bruises and wounds around his face. He pinched the glass like a ninja throwing star between his thumb and fore finger, and blindly threw it in Sweetcake's direction.

Before Sweetcake even reached the landing, looking with glee towards the top stairs, she felt a lightening bolt of pain strike her calf, that felt like a knife cutting through her skin. She turned in time, before retching a gasped cry of pain, to see WoolDoor, looking towards her wearing a weary smile hidden by a rainbow of purple, and blue bruises, laced with streamers of red blood against his yellow skin, that matched her own. He ran over, limping up the stairs towards Sweetcake, who on her hands and knees, yanked the glass from her leg. A stream of blood spouted and moistened lightly from the struck vascular artery on her leg. WoolDoor tackled her and they fought over the glass sliver, both confused if whether one should take it away from the other, or force it into the neck of their opponent.

"Now that was some grade A masturbating." Captain Hero could be heard proclaiming as he walked towards the top of the stairs. "I doubt anything could "rise" over that..." He said chuckling at his own pun.

---

**Captain Hero:** You know... except of course, building a medieval spiked torture bed. Now thats just basic serene id feeding.

---

But when he saw the ragged Strawberry Sweetcake and WoolDoor, at the base of the staircase, covered in blood and sweat, clothes torn, and trying to kill one another, he seemed to put his foot in his mouth...literally he sucked on his bare foot at the very sight of these two struggling with such fervor. After seconds of looking on, he took numerous pictures, then zipped off once again to secluded regions unknown.

The Strawberry girl, held tight to the vorpal glass, now red with both their blood, as it sank deep into her clenched fist, mirroring her rival's wound from the very same glass. WoolDoor clawed at her hand trying to wrench it from her grasp. Once he had both hands woven tightly coiled around her own, using her other hand she made a grab for one of the wings atop his head. With one good yank, she pulled him into the stairs they fought on, shaking him like a rag doll. Before he could be slammed down a third time he supported his neck and torso with his free hand, and with the left made a grab for the glass in Sweetcake's clenched and blood saturated hand.

The glass slipped from her limp hand, like a sword from it's sheath, further slicing her hand. WoolDoor wasted no time, as the girl cried out, and whipped the glass swiftly across her dimpled cheek and mouth in one quick blow. This resulting in yet another, if not louder shriek of pain, and the release of WoolDoor's wing from her grip, as she launched both hands into her face, gingerly nursing her wound.

He tossed the glass out of sight, and use, as he ran up the stairs to find a weapon of much greater use, to defeat the girl, and gain the upper hand as she tenderly pulled herself up after him, revenge on her sugar glazed brain.

The yellow housemate ran into the nearest room, labeled outside as the "war room", in search of anything suitable. He clumsily wiped a trickle of blood from his orange nose, before kicking the door open, hoping to find a barrage of weapons, but instead only found a middle aged prostitute dressed in an ill fitted mini skirt, and tube top.

"Hey theh' sailor. Lookin for a good time?" she asked the confused WoolDoor.

"I thought this was the "War Room"? He inquired still standing in the frame of the doorway.

"Nah. This is the room of things and people that sorta rhyme with the woid "War", such as the woid whore. Gore, poor, chore, bore, floor, door..." She informed the SockBat. Suddenly Mr. Limbkins, the cruel man from Charles Dickin's novel, "Oliver Twist", peeked out from beneath her skirt, in an unexplainable way.

"More!" he shouted adding to the prostitute's list of words slightly rhyming with War.

Suddenly WoolDoor felt a snap and a blinding pain strike the back of his head. He fell forward, only to be struck on the back, once more, splintering the wooden pole that had struck his head. He rolled onto his back to see Sweetcake, standing in the doorway, with a half of a cue stick from the pool table. Despite baring her teeth behind a tiny mouth, the red slice along her cheek, gave her a demented half grin, as she towered over WoolDoor.

"I come to bake sweets and kick ass...and I'm all out of sweets bitch!" she growled as low as her vocal chords could reach.

She struck the side of his head this time, with the remains of the cue stick. The crack to the side of his face sent him rolling onto his side.

"Hey, No fightin' in da War Room!" the Prostitute declared slothfully.

"Four!" Sweetcake yelled, with a cackle at the punctualness of her metaphor. Before he could feel the dark concussion envelope his vision, his wilted elbow brushed a bucket labeled "CHLOR...ine" in bold letters. Gripping the bucket, and silently thanking the Grammatik mistakes, he doused his attacker's face, with the putrid liquid, burning her face, eyes and gashes. Forcing his shoulder into her in a defensive shove, she was sent stumbling into the hall, as the cue stick clattered to the floor, that only bounced once, as WoolDoor snatched it up, feeling the wood gripped in his fist.

Before he could stab at her with the split end, as one would kill a vampire with a steak, she opened her now blood shot demonic eyes, catching the center of the stick. Playing a tug of war for the cue stick, they precariously moved along the hall, steadily towards the long, two story window.

Meanwhile, outside, beneath a particular window, on the first floor, Captain Hero stood flushed and exhausted, wiping a drop of perspiration from his brow.

"Whew, there's nothing like taking the edge off, than creating an unusually long, jagged spike bed from the inquisition during the middle ages." he stated proudly, looking at his work. "I'll just leave it below this window here for safe keeping."

Sweetcake had WoolDoor pressed against the cool glass, the cue stick pressed against his neck, as her red eyes bore into his emerald orbs, like an ember on a leaf. Behind him he could feel the soft clicks of glass starting to crack.

"You awe going to taste soooo yummy in a puree..." she cooed gleefully. WoolDoor narrowed his glare and pulled her elbow towards himself.

"Taste. This." he shuddered, as he spun her around, and pounded her directly into the spiderweb shape of cracked glass behind them. He watched her little body shatter the surrounding glass as it plummeted down, along with her screaming bloody form, to the barren cement ground below.

Her wail was stopped by the sickening thud, and crunch of a neck and spine snapping. WoolDoor peered out of the window frame, to behold Strawberry Sweetcake's body laying in a mangled heap, like a doll carelessly thrown aside. Captain Hero, very unaffected by the dead body lying below a smashed window, walked over to call up to his housemate a flight above him.

"Hey WoolDoor!" he yelled up to the Sockbat looking down at him. "Want to see the tourture equipment I just made. It's beneath the eerily identical window on the other side of the house!"

WoolDoor beamed his trademark jubilant grin, but didn't answer the Super hero, who was now preoccupied with slightly nudging the dead girl with the tip of his blue boot. WoolDoor heaved a sigh of relief, and limped back down to the kitchen, where his room mates that still remained, now very red in their faces, veins bulging from their foreheads. At sight of WoolDoor alive, they unanimously sighed in relief.

"Aww WoolDoor! You did it!" Foxxy cried out, rallying a cheer, as they gathered around WoolDoor in a group hug... that didn't last as long as hoped, due to the predicament from the severity of the straining and crouching they had just endured. They quickly let go and ran off to change their soiled under garments, muttering to be excused under their breath as they left all at once.

"So, you got your revenge." Spanky said approaching WoolDoor, as he still clutched his pinwheel for reasons unknown. "Now what are you gonna do?"

WoolDoor, despite weariness of the fight, puffed out his chest, and raised one finger high above his head in proclamation. "I...am gonna burn, and bury her remains! Weee!" he cried out, as he pulled the Olympic torch from his fanny door, and ran out of the kitchen, leaving Spanky to contemplate his thoughts.

"Hmmm" he thought scratching under his chin. "I wonder where the hell Toot is?"

_The End_

_Author's Reflections:_ OW my hands! Well thus ends my Alternate ending.That took so long and I'm finally done! Well to be honest the ending is one of those dead pan, climax lacking endings where nothing of particular interest happens. Those are always good for a lark. I tried to be as gory, sick and interesting as possible. Oh L. Ron Hubbard please spare your humble, and gullible servant! I hope you enjoyed, and got to hear from your favorite characters. Sorry about the poop joke, but I couldn't help myself. When I watched DBZ for the first time, I was screaming at them to get into the fight, but instead they stood around, and looked like they were trying desperately to go to the bathroom. Bless those inside potty jokes. Now a list of what parodies I used so I don't get sued none!

-Littl' bits'(You'd remember if you lived through the 80's)

-The Olympics

-Memoirs of A Geisha

-Dragon Ball Z (Hope I didn't offend anyone. Next time I parody Harry Potter)

-Oliver Twist

-They Live (1988)

ReviewMeUp!


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